


Uncontrolled

by Karla1209



Category: Winnetou - Karl May
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karla1209/pseuds/Karla1209
Summary: During a hunting trip Winnetou doesn't want to stop teasing his blood brother. When they are finally alone the chieftain of the Apache has to face the consequences...





	Uncontrolled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sharlih-rhymes-with-Darling (LadyLustful)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/gifts).



> Thank you for translating and beta reading, esteven and Dana - my crazy Karl May sisters!

They had not been alone for days because always other hunters, warriors of friendly tribes and Westmen had joined their hunting trip. As soon as one had left, the next had come, so there was no time for intimacies, kisses, touches, or even more.

Winnetou, however, hardly seemed to take that into account. He had secretly pinched his blood brother's buttocks, had, if they were unobserved for a moment, put his hand in his friend's crotch, deliberately causing so much friction that the Westman's shaft began to fill, without leaving him the possibility to prevent it, only to take the hand away then.

Winnetou had crept up silently in the night and nestled against Scharlih's back under the blanket, had pulled his friend's hand back and made him feel that he no longer wore a loincloth under his long hunting shirt. Old Shatterhand had felt the hot and hard flesh of his friend, who left quickly again and crawled back under his own blanket, as if nothing had happened.

Winnetou had pulled his Scharlih close while stalking a group of antelopes in the undergrowth, to kiss him wildly and passionately, while he had twirled one of the Westman's nipples with his fingers through the thin linen fabric of his shirt. He kept doing this until the friend was filled with desire only to run away abruptly and stalk the fugitive animals that had just begun to jump away.

From behind he had shoved his hand into Old Shatterhand's waistband as they squatted to scrape off the skins by the river, and then, with his fingers moistened in the water, suddenly reached deep between the Westman's buttocks and, for a moment, had without warning pushed his forefinger into the entrance of his beloved bloodbrother. Only with difficulty had Old Shatterhand been able to suppress a scream of pleasure and discomfort.

All in all, Winnetou had tried to torment his friend in every possible way in the past few days by inciting his lust again and again, fully aware they would not be able to give it room in the foreseeable future.

But today, today, they were finally alone again! The hunting trip had come to an end, all hunters had gone their ways and Winnetou and Old Shatterhand had set out to head for the Rio Pecos, two packhorses amply stocked with provisions for the winter.

In the evening, when they were already in the Apache territory, they had come to that hidden and sheltered cave that allowed them to sleep without anyone having to watch, because no one was able to find the cave unless he knew the way to it.

Old Shatterhand, however, was determined not to use the night to sleep!

It was rare he felt such a desire to own his friend as he did today. He usually enjoyed letting Winnetou take him, but today he wanted to pay his brother back all the attacks of the last few days. He wanted to push him to the ground, tear away his loincloth, invade him, thrust into him again and again, and release him only when he had been able to spill his juice into him.

Nevertheless, first of all, the two men had to take care of the everyday tasks. Only after the horses had been fed and taken care of, when the cave's surroundings, despite their hidden position, were examined for the presence of enemies and wood was brought to light a fire inside their shelter in order to sustain all night, the bloodbrothers had taken a seat opposite each other and they had eaten the food.

But then there was nothing left to stop Old Shatterhand from doing what he had planned.

Without any warning or an explanation, he jumped at his lover, tore him down, turned him on the stomach with seemingly doubled strength easily, knelt with one leg from behind on his thighs, grabbed the Apache, who just barely had managed to turn his head to the side, in the neck, and finally leaned down to whisper to him: "Now you shall reap what you have sown in the last days, I will take you, here and now."

An almost predator-like, wild flicker came in Winnetous eyes, darkening more and more with the increasing lust. Regardless, he wanted to fight, he wanted to rear up, wanted to drop the blood brother, but Old Shatterhand increased the pressure on Winnetous neck.

"I want to see your beautiful body take me in, I want to hear you groan with lust because I'm inside you, I want to feel your heat, I want to feel you move under me when I take you, when I thrust into you, I want to see you arch your back, so that I can sink deeper into you ... "

Under a half-dangerous, half-voluptuous rumble that escaped Winnetou's chest, Old Shatterhand felt that his brother gave up, he felt as the tension of his muscles subsided. And had these gestures not been proof enough to the Westman that his friend submitted, his words would undoubtedly have shown him: "Take me!"

More than this brief call was not needed. Almost savagely, Old Shatterhand tore off the Apache's loincloth, baring his arse without even taking off his friend's leggings or the hunting shirt, just as he himself remained fully clothed and only opened the buttons of his trousers with his free hand to free his already dripping, hardened cock.

Cautiously he took his weight off his friend's thighs and let go of his neck, ready to push him down again at any moment, if he still wanted to fight back, but nothing like that happened.

Winnetou was so pleased that he didn't think about fighting. On the contrary, he enjoyed the situation his conduct of the last days had let to: for the first time Sharlih seemed uncontrolled, ruled only by pleasure.

Winnetou knew that his friend's first intrusion would hurt him, but he longed for that burning that would soon turn into pure pleasure when his bloodbrother finally takes him unrestrained and wild, as he had done to Scharlih countless times before and as he had asked again and again for himself. But his caring lover had never responded to it – until today!

Scharlih had reluctantly relieved the pressure on his body, but Winnetou did not think of defending himself. When this became clear to the Westman, he grabbed Winnetou's hips to draw the friend closer to him with a firm grip, and then let his hands wander to Winnetou’s buttocks, which he spread apart as far as possible, to see that secret place he would possess in mere moments.

To have Winnetou lying in front of him, defenseless to a certain extent, fully clothed except for the bared midsection of his body, incapable of hiding anything from the bloodbrother's view, who cast his gaze over the already impatiently twitching entrance of the Apache, increased Old Shatterhand's arousal to immeasurable heights and he had to hold himself back, so as not to spill prematurely.

Instead, he leaned further down, rubbing the dripping tip of his cock a few times over Winnetou's hole, and then sinking into him in a single deep thrust, which elicited an almost animal cry of pleasure and pain from the Apache's mouth, which only aroused the Westman even more.

He paused briefly to give the friend at least a moment to get used to the intruder, for Old Shatterhand himself knew only too well how it felt to be so completely filled without real preparation. Then he began to withdraw slowly and the faster from the Apache, to push back in.

After only a little while his thrusts became harder and harder. He left his hands on the buttocks of his friend, in order to continue to spread them, because he wanted to see the point where their bodies united. At first Winnetou had lain in silence, after the first cry he had endured what his lover ruthlessly gave him, but gradually his hips began to move. He adjusted to the rhythm of his friend, tried to meet him in his thrusts, tried to unite them even deeper, while trying to find friction for his own, hard shaft on the blanket under him.

Soon they both groaned in uninhibited lust, carried away by the desire to belong to the other, to possess the other, and it did not take long for Old Shatterhand to come with one last deep thrust, which Winnetou met with rearing of his midsection, and to spill into his friend.

However, as the Westman regained his breath and senses, he realized that his lover had not yet reached the climax and so he slowly withdrew from his friend, signalizing him with silent but unmistakable gestures to get up on his knees and hands.

Winnetou obeyed and could not restrain himself from showing his friend his bared buttocks, to shamelessly offer him his body as a gift, ready to accept whatever his bloodbrother wished to give him.

Old Shatterhand understood the wordless permission. He reached around the Apache with one hand to take his lover's cock into a firm grip while he simultaneously thrust three fingers of his other hand into his bloodbrother's entrance, feeling his own seed in the narrow and hot tunnel, which he had just possessed. With the fingertips he looked for that special point inside his friend whose stimulation always brought him to climax.

As soon as he felt the small elevation, he began to put pressure on it, didn't let go, stroked it steadily, until the chief spilled while moaning.

Then Old Shatterhand retreated from his friend, roughly tossing him over to his side to lie down next to him, and while licking Winnetou's juice off from his stained hand, he gave the fingers of his other hand to the Apache to let him taste Old Shatterhand's release.

It was not until they both had indulged in tasting each other that Old Shatterhand turned Winnetou on his back, leaned over him and joined their mouths in a long, lustful, almost tender and yet intense kiss that would have made any spectator guess this first encounter in the early evening was only the beginning.


End file.
